Waking Dreams
by StarbuckJayne
Summary: If walls could talk, what stories would they tell?


Waking Dreams  
  
By Starbuck_Jayne  
Starbuck_Jayne@mulderandscully.co.uk  
  
Rating: PG I would have said-don't think there's anything too   
bad in there.  
  
Spoilers: None really.   
  
Keywords: MSR. Post season 8.   
  
Disclaimer: Not mine wish they were but the characters of   
Mulder, Scully, Skinner Doggett etc all belong to Mr Carter,   
1013 Productions and Fox.  
  
Archive: Anywhere just please keep my name and e-mail   
attached, but no flames please 'cause I am way too delicate!  
  
Summary: If walls could talk then they would no doubt have   
many stories to tell.  
  
Feedback: On my knees and begging for it.  
  
Author's Notes: Erm I don't even know how to describe this!   
I haven't seen any of season 9 and the idea of X-Files   
without Mulder doesn't really appeal to me so I have just   
carried on the series in my own way ;0) This is for Jill who I   
miss loads!  
  
Waking Dreams  
  
  
The rusting iron gate gave a squeal of protest as the young   
real estate agent heaved it open.   
  
"Well," she said, regaining her composure and casting an   
uneasy glance across the overgrown estate. "The garden   
needs a little work," an understatement of epic proportions,   
"but there's been some wonderful landscaping done here."   
The prospective purchasers, an attractive couple in their late   
thirties, seemed unperturbed by this idea. "If you'll look over   
to the far corner," the agent went on, stepping over the fallen   
branch of a tree, ravaged by lightening, "you'll see a rather   
exquisite water feature." Hidden beneath a shroud of dirt   
and shielded by ever-growing grasses, was a beautiful   
marble fountain. It rose elegantly from the centre of what   
appeared to have once been a paved seating area.  
  
XXXXX  
  
Frost glittered like crystal from each blade of grass, and   
Scully was forced to watch her step as she made her way   
down the path. Plumes of smoke cascaded over the sides of   
the mug that she held between her palms, providing warmth   
against the December chill.  
  
"You ok, Mulder?" She asked, handing him the steaming   
coffee. He nodded thoughtfully before smiling at her, as if to   
prove his point.  
  
"Where's Will?"   
  
"Asleep," she produced his baby alarm, "and quiet for the   
time being. Jesus, Mulder! It's freezing out here!" She   
changed the subject with a shiver. It was not unlike Mulder   
to spend time by himself, but she was worried that his   
current employment status might be getting him down. He   
hadn't found another job after leaving the FBI. She, on the   
other hand, was still at the Bureau; still assigned to Doggett;   
still working on the X-Files and still refusing to let her   
husband interfere with any of their cases. She knew it must   
be hard for him, seeing his whole career's work being   
passed over to two sceptics, (despite Scully's near   
conversion), but as Skinner said, there was nothing that they   
could do.  
  
"Have you thought about a career in paranormal   
investigation?" She said with a half smile, allowing him to   
take her comment however he chose. As predicted, his   
expression remained unchanged. They both knew though   
that it would make sense: after leaving the FBI, the idea that   
Mulder would become anything other than a paranormal   
investigator was as absurd as the notion that, now they were   
openly sleeping together, he and Scully would suddenly   
become "Fox and Dana". It had begun as a cliche, but,   
looking at it logically, he wasn't going back to the bureau   
anytime soon, and for over a decade his passion for his work   
had been driven by his love of the supernatural. If he'd   
actually found paperwork and criminal profiling interesting,   
he would have been the best damn FBI agent in the country   
and pretty much made director by now.  
  
He broke the tension with a sly smile and a "we'll see",   
before wrapping an arm casually about his wife's shoulders   
and leading her back towards the house.  
  
XXXXX  
  
The door was stiff and swollen with age, and as it opened   
the whole building seemed to recoil from the sudden rush of   
light. The shafts of sunshine highlighted the dust that had   
occurred as a result of many years of neglect, and the estate   
agent stepped swiftly to one side in order to conceal a crack   
in the plasterwork. The hall was empty except for a few   
dead leaves that had ventured under the door, and a   
yellowing vase that served no purpose other than to gather   
cobwebs. Three doors led out of the room, and a sweeping   
staircase took pride of place in the centre. The carpet had   
probably once been a rich burgundy, but had since faded,   
along with everything else.   
  
Pressing onwards, the young woman pushed open the door   
that led directly off to the right, and then ushered the couple   
into the kitchen.   
  
XXXXX  
Will refusing to eat his breakfast was no longer a common   
occurrence, so, as he pushed the spoon away for the third   
time, Scully feared that he might have been disturbed by the   
recent events in the house. Mulder's new career was in full   
swing, and he would spend each night in a different,   
supposedly haunted, house. He and his wife were seeing   
less and less of each other these days, but Scully accepted   
that the nights away from home would only be until he   
gained credibility as an investigator. Besides, Christmas   
was just around the corner and she expected that Will would   
regain his spirit with the unveiling of the tree.  
  
The scent of coffee drifted through the kitchen, the rich   
warmth contrasting with the icy chill that hung in the air   
outdoors. Scully sighed as she prepared for her journey to   
work, tugging on her jacket just as Mulder wandered into the   
kitchen.   
  
"Morning!" She smiled, face upturned for a kiss. Instead,   
Mulder wrapped his arms around her and guided her   
towards the front door.  
  
"Ok..." Scully grinned, aware that he was up to something,   
despite being unsure what it was.  
  
"Ta-da!" Mulder indicated a small sprig of mistletoe that   
hung above the front door, wrapped, somewhat clumsily, in a   
red ribbon.  
  
"Mulder!" His wife laughed, "That is so..."  
  
"Old?" He kissed her passionately before taking her hand   
and spinning her out of the door. "Now get to work before   
Agent Doggett beats us to solving this case!"   
  
XXXXX  
  
The agent appeared to be losing her interest in the house,   
swinging open the doors to the dining and living rooms then   
moving on in a way that assured the couple that they had   
lingered long enough downstairs.   
The older woman noticed a crack in the window, but said   
nothing to the agent. If they bought the place, that would be   
the least of their worries-the house hadn't been lived in for   
years, or so it seemed. It was going to need a lot of love and   
care.  
  
"How come it has been left derelict for so long?" The man   
had to ask.  
  
"The old owner refused to live here after his wife died," was   
the response. "It was left untouched for years, but then the   
guy passed away himself a few months back. Their son   
cleared out most of the stuff, then had the house put on the   
market."  
  
XXXXX  
  
Christmas had been and gone. The only clue that it had   
even existed was the lingering scent of pine needles where   
the tree had stood. Scully was curled up on the sofa,   
reading through case notes and running absent minded   
fingers through her hair. A fire crackled in the grate, spitting   
occasionally as the heavy sleet from outside trespassed   
down the chimney. It was already past midnight, and she'd   
longed for her bed for a good few hours now, but Mulder had   
promised her a surprise if she waited up.  
  
At quarter to one the sound of the door opening woke her   
from a light sleep and she stretched her arms, only to have   
them grasped playfully by her husband as he entered the   
room.  
  
"Mulder, you're freezing!" She chided as he wrapped his   
hands more firmly about hers.  
  
"Look what I brought, Scully," he grinned, producing a bag of   
Chinese food, "I figured we could spend all night working on   
this case of yours. Just like the old days."  
  
Scully groaned. "Mulder," she warned him, "you know you're   
not supposed to get involved with these cases!"   
  
He didn't reply, already occupied with setting out the take-  
away, occasionally licking some spilt sauce from his fingers.   
  
"Ok, Scully, dinner is served," he handed her the plate with a   
flourish, and a grin that accented the lines around his   
eyes...he was overworking himself again.   
  
That night Mulder and Scully slept on the sofa, both too tired   
to climb the stairs to bed.  
  
"I miss you, Mulder," she had whispered softly, just before   
exhaustion caused her to give in to sleep.  
  
XXXXX  
  
The stair carpet was closer to shreds than to fabric, and the   
estate agent warned the couple to watch their step. Light   
shone in through a window on the stairway, the coloured   
panes of glass casting blue and green reflections on the tiled   
floor in the hall. The wallpaper was peeling, but it had   
obviously once been a warm shade of apricot. Quite a   
contrast to the chill that seemed to engulf the house now.   
Still, the couple remained certain that the only thing needed   
to turn the house back into a family home was a lick of paint   
here and there, and evidently some new carpets.   
  
The first room at the top of the stairs was obviously a young   
boy's, and strangely it was the only room in the house that   
still retained its contents. Huge dustsheets, yellowed with   
age and grime, concealed bulky furniture. From the ceiling   
hung a mobile-spaceships flying around a model of the Earth   
and moon. A musty smell hung thickly in the air, and the   
room felt cold and unwelcoming. The couple noticed the   
agent give a slight shudder before moving on to the   
bathroom.   
  
A claw-foot bath took pride of place in the centre of the   
room, surrounded by black and white tiles. On one wall was   
a mosaic, seemingly of a mermaid, but it was difficult to tell   
through the dirt.   
  
XXXXX  
  
The steam rose upwards, heavy with aromas of lavender   
and jasmine. Candles flickered all around the tub, and the   
light of a full moon shone in through the window.  
  
"I want to tell you something," she smiled slyly. Mulder   
regarded her out of the corner of his eye and stretched   
upwards, pretending to be unbothered.  
  
"Do you want to know or not?" she threw the sponge and it   
hit him squarely on the chest.  
  
"Can't I guess?" He grinned, throwing it back. "Ok, erm,   
your mother is in the next room?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
"You've decided to quit the FBI and come and join me in my   
ghost-hunting travels around North America?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
"You've fallen in love with your newly assigned FBI partner   
and are leaving for Europe with him tonight?"  
  
"Maybe." She laughed.  
  
"Ok, well I'm out of ideas. What's the big news?"  
  
"I'm pregnant."  
  
XXXXX  
  
The last room of the house. The door was flung open,   
revealing a spacious bedroom. The drapes were still closed,   
so the agent drew them off, allowing the last of the autumn   
sunshine to slip in through the window. The sun was   
beginning to set, and an orangey glow was cast across the   
sky.   
  
"Maybe there's a storm brewing," the man spoke, wrapping   
his jacket closer about himself.  
  
The room was without a carpet, instead having wooden   
floorboards that creaked as the intruders moved around. A   
dusty mirror was the only thing still in the room, but it was   
shattered into pieces, presumably having been dropped and   
then abandoned at some time during the moving process.   
The woman couldn't help but feel uneasy here, as though   
unseen eyes were watching her. A cold draught blew in   
through a crack in the window, and sent her hair flying about   
her face.  
  
XXXXX  
  
No one had expected her to lose the baby. Somehow it just   
wasn't right. Not after they had tried for so long, and had   
finally been so happy. She hadn't even told him until he   
returned from work, and had found her lying on the bed. He   
wasn't even sure if she was crying, it had been that long   
since he had witnessed her tears. She wouldn't look at him   
though, turned onto her side as he sat next to her and began   
stroking her shoulder. Placing gentle kisses on her forehead   
he asked her softly to tell him what was wrong, but she   
couldn't.   
  
"Scully," he pleaded. "Is it the baby?"   
  
She nodded and he drew her close. There was nothing else   
to do.  
  
"We can try again, Scully!"  
  
"I know we can, Mulder! But it's been so hard."   
  
"We can't just admit defeat like this, Scully. This isn't who   
we are."  
  
XXXXX  
  
"So," the estate agent beamed in her "look-how-  
approachable-I-am-so-wouldn't-you-like-to-make-me-an-  
offer" way that was so typical of professionals. "You can   
have a look around on your own if you like?"  
  
Her offer was refused, and the three made their way outside.   
The sun was nearly set, and the dying wind whipped up a   
few orange leaves, sending them twirling down the path and   
leaving behind a bare flagstone. Carved into the rock was a   
rudimentary drawing of a spaceship, and below that an   
inscription, engraved in a childlike scrawl:  
  
"Katherine Samantha Mulder. 2013."  
  
  
~The End~ 


End file.
